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My Blot
(To the tune of My Shot featured in Hamilton)
(Audience sings lyrics in bold)
Lyrics by Matt Monitto
I am not throwing away my blot
I am not throwing away my blot
Although the Post quit the inkin’
We’re all together thinkin’
That I’m not throwing away my blot
Imma get a time machine to mid-nineties
The New York Magazine was keen, it was humoring finely
A columnist from Washington with clever wit mighty
He sent an entry which could get in or possibly win, but got stymied
That rejection made him gruff, he thought he could improve
On their simpler groove, his manner of snark more remarkable
So in 1993 he started
A contest of his own lighthearted that charted
Every joke and every single comic crack anatomic
Readers gathered in harmonic accord, they’re euphonic!
Sardonic, hedonic gags became the game,
Tsunamic wave of wags would join to give it a name We are the I-N-V-I-T-A-T
-ation Nation, proud to be
A comedy cabal in ascendancy
Without Washington quashing independent glee
Relentlessly it mocked exponentially
Readers vied for the prize with a penman’s spree
Ever playing for a line in resplendent ink
And there would be a top contestant seen eventually
Heads would see (Chuck Smith) in parentheses
Unsurprised when he finished ahead this week
He would sit down and write always jestingly
The best we see; could he be the crest? We’ll see
‘Cause I am not throwing away my blot
I am not throwing away my blot
Yeah, he’s the most likely inkin’
But everybody’s thinkin’
That I’m not throwing away my blot
I am not throwing away my blot
I am not throwing away my blot
With each riposte granted inkin’
An audience is thinkin’
That I’m not throwing away my blot
It’s time to make a blot!
A wave of classics made appearances
They all showed the world what incoherence is
Change a word, breed the foals, spreading in choruses
Send the readers every week to thesauruses
With each blot!
And more big names were arising
When you see their name in print, it’s never surprising
Tom Witte, Sarah Worcester, Russell Beland advanced,
We never had a chance because the Czar at a glance
Assigned them every blot!
And further entries were spreading fast
The Left Foot of Shakespeare peak among them with laughs amassed
Rank and file thankin’ Style all the while tittering, voices chittering,
Everyone’s smile was glittering
Reading every blot!
Geniuses written and printed
And none would’ve hinted it’d end but one stint did;
The Czardom abdicated, audience fraught,
They thought would their wit be for naught?
But fear not, they’re gonna get blots!
Now check who we’ve got:
Madame Empress in charge of the clan was brought
We saw her plan was hot
She loves the Losers a lot
The Invite shot to attention, further ink would allot
A rise in jokes from folks with every humorous thought
Poppin’ on top of the ranks as further laughter was sought
A bunch of clever Losers varied in volition nontraditional
Sending in submissions – show their ink? The next edition’ll!
And for a decade and more
Their lines would leave us in hysterics laid out on the floor
The whole community expanding out from Washington to lands beyond
From everywhere a crowd would respond
I am not throwing away my blot
I am not throwing away my blot
A chance to boast of my inkin’
I’m one of many thinkin’
That I’m not throwing away my blot
I am not throwing away my blot
I am not throwing away my blot
And now a host hopes for inkin’ In
unison we’re thinkin’
That I’m not throwing away my blot
Everybody write jo-o-o-o-okes
Jo-o-okes, jo-o-okes
The best material
Let’s go!
(Jo-o-o-okes)
I said, send it to the Invite!
You’ll maybe win, right! C’mon!
C’mon, let’s go!
Write up
When there’s limericks to pen, you write up
Every parody we’ve gotta write up
When there’s bliss in your eyes, you light up
When there’s news to amuse, gotta write up
Send the blues from your shoes, gotta write up
Always choose to enthuse, gotta write up
Find out who’s gonna Lose, gotta write up,
Write up!
Soon we seemed unstoppable in wit and risibility
Then the headline hit me:
Canceled by paper’s new nobility?
Didn’t see it coming, are we done? Was it futility?
Are we merely vessels of fragility?
See, we almost made it to Year 30;
Through the paper’s lifetime holding sturdy,
Now everybody’s wrapping up our quips, getting grips on this eclipse,
Postscripts of passing in our chips, done dirty
Scratch that: though they left us homeless, build a new one,
Where all the brainiest zanies come to make our true fun
Towns of clowns, we enter a hot domain
Around the counties, joy we cannot contain
And we continue sending entries,
Writing fervently, lampooning elitist gentries,
And will the jokes and parodies we send re-
-sound through the cities and towns and residentiaries?
I know the news about revival’s exciting
We need it alive so it’s bleeping inviting
We’ll be keeping at writing
A stream of Losers letting loose a ream of wryness,
We may be minus the Post, but we post to our Highness!
And now dual-judicial, we’re proudly grinning, howling, laughter that we wish’ll
Keep us rocking while mocking officials;
We’re laughing in the face of news across the nation,
Join the Losers; accept your invitation!
And I am not throwing away my blot
I am not throwing away my blot
Although the Post quit the inkin’
We’re all together thinkin’
That I’m not throwing away my blot
We’re gonna write up, it’s time to make a blot
We’re gonna write up, it’s time to make a blot
We’re gonna write up, write up
(It’s time to make a blot)
Write up, write up
(It’s time to make a blot)
Write up, it’s time to make a blot
Write up, make a blot, you’ve got a blot!
You know it’s time to make a blot, time to make a blot
Now that we’re all going to play, I’m
Not throwing away my blot!
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